WHEREIN THEYDON SUFFERS FROM FAINT HEART
Furneaux, with that phenomenally clear mind of his, had perceived and
expressed in one trenchant sentence the outstanding and almost unique
feature of the tragic mystery which centered around the death of Edith
Lester. Theydon's connection with either international finance or the
rebirth of China was remote as that of the man in the moon. Yet he had
been pitchforked by fate into an active and, indeed, dominating
influence over those phases of both undertakings which were peculiar to
London.
Theydon mused on this element in an unprecedented situation as he sat in
the taxicab which bore him swiftly to Innesmore Mansions. Another quite
abnormal condition was the ignorance of London with regard to the fierce
struggle now being waged in its midst.
On the one hand, a few Oriental fanatics--most of whom were probably
less swayed by racial enthusiasm than by good payment for services
rendered--were carrying out the orders of a master criminal with a
sublime indifference to the laws framed by the "foreign devils" whom
they despised; on the other were ranged the three members of the Forbes
family and Theydon himself, supported by the forces of the Crown, it was
true, but singularly isolated from the knowledge and sympathy of their
fellow-citizens.
Miss Beale hardly counted. The servants in Fortescue Square shared with
Bates and his wife a sort of territorial interest in the fight. When
Fortune picked an occasional warrior for the fray she chose a man from
Chicago, a motorcyclist from Eastbourne, a policeman in Charing Cross
road.
How portentous had been that hand raised to stem the traffic at a
congested corner on the Monday night! Into what a vortex of crime and
passion had it not pointed, all unknowing!
If the cab in which Theydon was hurrying home from Daly's Theater had
not been delayed by the dispute between driver and policeman, he would
never have known that the millionaire visited Innesmore Mansions, and
the subsequent course of the night's history might have left him wholly
unaffected.
Then his wayward thoughts took to brooding on the gray car which
shadowed him from Waterloo to Fortescue Square, and again from the
square to his own abode. If it held some member of the Embassy staff,
why had no more been heard of it? And what had Winter and Furneaux meant
by hinting that far wider issues were bound up with the affair than the
authorities were yet at liberty to divulge? The attack on Forbes,
sinister and malevolent in its scope and purpose, was, in a sense, open
warfare. But it was impossible to guess what part, if any, the official
representatives of China filled in the fray. Were they active allies of
Scotland Yard or did they hold what is known in the law courts as a
watching brief? He could not tell. He only knew that each successive
period of twenty-four hours broadened the area covered by the struggle,
and there, at least, he found solid backing for the little detective's
demand that the threatened people should dwell under one roof. His
pulses quickened at the notice that this new departure implied constant
association with Evelyn Forbes. Yet, what did it avail? Why should he
dream of fanning into a fiercer fury the flame of his love? As matters
stood, he had about as much chance of marrying Evelyn Forbes as of
becoming Emperor of China!
The incongruity of the situation was illustrated with cruel accuracy by
the fact that he could ill afford the stoppage of his work demanded by
the present trend of events. He earned what might be regarded as a good
income by his pen, but his expenses were not light, and he had deemed
himself fortunate the previous year when he was able to invest a hundred
pounds!
As a matter of fact, the interest on his "securities" paid for his
gloves and ties; another lucky year might see him provided for life with
boots and socks! He pictured himself--if he were idiot enough, when all
this turmoil was ended, to pose as a suitor for Evelyn Forbes's
hand--explaining his financial position to the millionaire, and wilting
under the scornful amusement in those earnest, deep-seeing eyes. Phew!
He grew hot at the mere notion of such folly.
Little wonder, therefore, that the driver of the taxi should gaze
quizzically after Theydon's alert figure as it vanished in the stairway
of Innesmore Mansions.
"Got the hump, an' pretty bad," soliloquized the man. "Gimme a bob over
the fare, an' all, so can't be stony. But Lord love a duck, you never
can tell!"
Theydon was about to unlock the door of his flat when it opened in his
face, and his sister nearly collided with him. She screamed slightly, a
certain quality of alarm in her exclamation merging instantly into
joyful recognition.
"So you have come home!" she cried. "My goodness! What a fright you've
given me!"
"Why?" he said, with a reassuring and brotherly hug.
"I've had horrid dreams. I couldn't rest all last night for thinking of
you."
"Is George absent?" George was her husband, a consulting engineer, whose
professional duties often took him to distant parts of the country.
"Yes."
"Then you and Miss Beale have been living on tea and scraps. Really,
Mollie, I credited you with more sense. Tell me what you ate last night,
and I'll diagnose your dreams."
"We dined at a first-class restaurant in the West End," said Mrs. Paxton
indignantly. "It would be much more to the point if you explained how
you have been living the past few days. I have not been so worried about
anything since George was trapped in that horrid mine."
Mollie was on the verge of tears. Her brother resolved instantly to
minimize matters, or she would fret more than ever on his account.
"Now, look here, old girl," he said, meeting her critical glance
steadily. "Miss Beale has been putting absurd notions into that stylish
little head of yours. By the way, is that the latest thing in hats? It
suits you admirably."
Mrs. Paxton smiled, though her eyes were glistening suspiciously.
"You can't humbug me, Frank, so please don't try," she protested. "Why
are you mixed up in this dreadful business? Why are you constantly
meeting detectives? Why did you rush off to Eastbourne yesterday? When
did you become acquainted with this Mr. Forbes? Have you seen his
daughter?"
Theydon was at least sufficiently well versed in the peculiarities of
the feminine temperament to know that he would, be safe in answering the
last question first.
"Yes," he said. "I have seen a good deal of Miss Forbes recently. Have
you ever met her?"
"She was at the horse show last year with Lady de Winton's party. She's
an awfully pretty girl, and will be worth millions, I suppose. Some one
said that young de Winton was simply crazy about her, but he looks such
a sloppy youth that I could hardly imagine those two getting married. Of
course, there's the title, yet a title is not everything."
Young de Winton! Theydon had not even been aware hitherto of the
existence of a marriageable scion of that noble house.
"That particular young spark has not been in evidence during the past
few days at any rate," he commented, and his voice was not so nonchalant
as he imagined, because Mrs. Paxton looked up quickly.
"Perhaps it was only idle gossip," she said. "Is Miss Forbes a nice girl
to talk to? She struck me as being very animated."
"Animated"--while in the company of that undoubted oaf, de Winton!
Theydon choked back something tinged with gall as he replied quietly:
"She could not well help being highly intelligent. Her father and mother
are charming people. I was introduced to Mr. Forbes owing to a magazine
commission to write an article about his interest in aviation. Now you
see how promptly even the most gorgeous bubble bursts when it impinges
against a solid little fact. As it happens, Mr. Forbes and I will have
so much in common during the next day or two that I am now going to stay
with him. I came here to pack a portmanteau. If you'll be a good little
girl and listen while I'm at the telephone you will hear all about it."
The words were no sooner uttered than he wanted to recall them. It would
be no easy matter to discuss Furneaux's suggestion with any one in
Fortescue Square without letting his sister into the secret that the
visit was necessitated by considerations of his own personal safety.
Mrs. Paxton's eyes were sparkling with a new interest.
"I had no idea you were on terms of such intimacy with the family," she
cried. "Don't tell me, Frank, that your flights have taken you to the
elevated region in which millionaires' daughters figure as possible
brides!"
"Now you are making me out a Mormon," and Theydon grinned fiercely.
"You know what I mean. This Miss Forbes--by the way, what is her
Christian name?"
"Let me see. I think I have heard it. Doris, is it, or Phyllis? No, I
remember now--Evelyn."
"O, then, if you are so vague on that point I suppose I must reconcile
myself to owning a bachelor brother again."
He shook his head at her.
"Ah, you women!" he said. "Yet I used to regard you as quite a sensible
person, Mollie! Now, how in the name of goodness could I possibly
entertain any notion of marrying the only daughter of a man in Forbes's
position?"
"It all depends," was the illogical but crushing retort. "There are
plenty of millionaires' daughters whom I would not regard as good enough
for my brother. And, let me tell you, the family is making progress. A
little bird whispered the other day that George's name will appear in
the next list of honors. He is to receive a knighthood."
It was not new to Theydon to learn that his brother-in-law stood in high
favor with the Government, because Paxton had been appointed on two
Royal Commissions with reference to mining regulations, but he affected
a surprised incredulity as offering a way of escape from an inquisition
which he dreaded.
"Dear me!" he smirked.
Therein he erred. His sister gave him a puzzled glance.
"You are not yourself today, Frank," she said dubiously. "You are
acting. For whose benefit? Not mine, surely!"
"If your prospective ladyship will pardon me I will now go to the
telephone," he countered.
Anything, even a mad jumble of incoherence in his talk with the Forbes
household, was better than the troubled scrutiny of those clear brown
eyes. Leaving the door open so that his sister could hear his side of
the conversation, he rang up No. 11 Fortescue Square.
The butler answered.
"That you, Tomlinson?" said Theydon. "Will you ask Mr. Forbes if I am to
turn up in time for afternoon tea? If it is more convenient that I
should arrive later I have lots of things to attend to, and can fill in
a few hours easily."
"I really don't know what to say, sir," came the astounding answer.
"Mrs. Forbes has been shot--"
"Great heavens!"
"Yes, sir. She was merely looking out through the drawing-room window,
when some one fired at her from a passing motor car."
"Do you mean that she is dead?"
"No, sir--not quite so bad as that. The bullet struck her left shoulder.
A few inches lower and it would have pierced her heart. The doctors are
with her now. I--"
Some interruption took place on the line and the butler's voice ceased.
Theydon, careless now as to what construction his sister might place on
his words, was about to storm at the exchange for cutting the
communication. He meant to say that on no consideration would he inflict
the presence of a stranger at such a terrible moment, when a coldly
metallic, almost harsh question reached him.
"That you, Theydon?"
"Yes," he said. Forbes was speaking.
"I was crossing the hall, and guessed it might be you. Come as soon as
you are at liberty. You will be welcome. If we are to be besieged I want
some one who will not be afraid to shoot. These policemen are too
scrupulous. They saw some cursed Mongol leaning out through the window
of the closed car, and could have either shot him or put a bullet so
close that his aim would have been disturbed. As it was, my wife only
escaped death by the mercy of Providence. She bent slightly at the very
instant the would-be assassin fired, and the bullet simply lacerated her
shoulder. After this, I'll defend myself and my womenfolk, but I need at
least one other man whom I can trust. Will you come?"
"I'll be with you within twenty minutes."
He heard the clang of the receiver being replaced on its rest at the
other end of the wire. Somehow, the sound conveyed a new determination
on Forbes's part. He had his back to the wall. No matter what view the
law took of his action subsequently, he would protect his dear ones at
all hazards.
After that, Theydon hesitated no longer.
"Bates," he cried, "throw into a bag such clothes as I shall need for a
few days' stay in Mr. Forbes's house. When I am gone, pack your own
boxes and take a week's holiday. Go anywhere you like, out of London,
but go at once. Send me your address, care of Mr. Forbes, and I'll let
you know when I want you again."
"If it's a matter of holdin' out against them--"
Bates intended making a declaration of war, but his employer broke in
emphatically.
"I want you to obey my orders fully and unquestionably," he said. Bates
promptly became the well-trained valet once more.
"Yes, sir," he said. "Your portmanteau will be ready in ten minutes.
Half an hour later me an' Mrs. Bates will leave for my cousin's place in
Hampshire."
Theydon returned to the sitting room. His sister's face was white with
fear, but he threw restraint to the winds.
"Mollie," he said, placing his hands on her shoulders, "you are very
dear to me, but there is one woman in the world who, if fate proves
kind, may yet be dearer. She is in danger. If some one said that of you
to your husband, what would he do?"
She kissed him with tremulous lips. "He would act just as you are going
to act," she said. "But, dear, can't you trust me? I cannot help,
perhaps, but I can pray for you."
"Well, then, Sis, I won't fence with you any longer. There's a sort of
feud between Mr. Forbes and a faction in China. He helped the reformers
financially, and some supporters of the dethroned dynasty are trying to
compel him by force to give them a list of the prominent men who control
the revolution. If he yields, it means that nearly a hundred leading men
in China--men whose only thought is the welfare and progress of their
country--will be ruthlessly murdered. If he continues to refuse, his own
life and the lives of his wife and daughter are at stake. These fiends
killed Mrs. Lester within a few feet of this very room. They killed her
husband six months ago. They tried to kidnap Evelyn Forbes yesterday,
and succeeded, for a while, in carrying off her mother, their plan being
to torture one or both, even unto death. Heaven help me, I love Evelyn
Forbes, and I would count my life well spent if I died in defending her.
Should anything happen to me and she is spared, tell her that, will
you--and my spirit will thank you."
"We must not think of death, but of life," was the brave answer. "Can I
do anything? Could George assist if he were here?"
"No, Mollie. Perhaps I am exaggerating matters, though the history of
this week would make strange reading if published broadcast. Indeed I
shall now urge on Mr. Forbes the advisability of sending the facts to
the press. London would be stirred to its depths, and every one of its
citizens would be quick to observe and report the presence of Chinamen
or Japanese in the West End. Some innocent Orientals would suffer, but
the police might at least be enabled to capture the pestiferous gang
which has committed this latest outrage. Just think of some cold-blooded
scoundrel shooting at a sweet-mannered and gentle lady like Mrs.
Forbes!"
"Surely the authorities can protect her."
"That is the wild absurdity of the position. Of course, you didn't hear
what Mr. Forbes said. The armed detectives on duty in his house actually
saw the Chinaman who fired the shot which wounded her, leaning out
through the window of a closed car. But they cannot blaze away at any
passer-by merely because he is, or resembles, an Asiatic. What they dare
not do, however, he and I will endeavor cheerfully. Bates!"
"Yes, sir," came the cry from a bedroom.
"If you are packing two bags, put that pistol and a box of cartridges in
the smaller one."
"Yes, sir."
Mrs. Paxton at this crisis proved herself a woman of spirit.
"I think you're right, Frank," she said quietly. "I refuse to believe
that any British court of justice would blame any man for defending the
lives of his wife and daughter, nor you for helping him. If the
peacefully disposed Chinese residents in London wish to avoid risk let
them keep away from No. 11. Fortescue Square. May I come with you?"
"You, Mollie?"
He looked at her with troubled eyes. For the moment such was the fire in
his brain he did not understand.
She laughed gallantly.
"I don't mean as one of the garrison," she said. "May I not make the
acquaintance of these people? Sometimes, the mere knowledge that others
are aware of one's troubles and sympathize with one is comforting. Miss
Beale is not expecting me till tea time. I told her I might lunch with
you. Indeed, I promised to call at her hotel for her letters, and that
is halfway on your road."
"You're a brick, Mollie," said her brother. "I do believe Evelyn Forbes
will be glad to see you. The most amazing thing about this affair is
that none of the many friends Mr. and Mrs. Forbes and their daughter
must possess in London has the slightest inkling of the truth. I suppose
the servants are instructed to tell ordinary callers that the various
members of the family are out, or some of them indisposed, or something
of the sort.... But come along! I hear Bates banging my belongings into
the passage. I'm in a fever to be there and taking part in the row."
Soon they were seated in a taxi and speeding to Smith's Hotel, Jermyn
Street.
"Have you invited Miss Beale to reside with you while she is in London,
Sis?" said Theydon, allowing his thoughts to dwell for a moment on the
less tragic side of events.
"Yes. What else could I do? Poor thing, she was terrified at the notion
of sleeping under the same roof as a Chinaman."
"I don't blame her. But there's a certain element of risk for you,
Mollie--"
"Oh, bother! Don't tell me that a few Chinamen can threaten all London."
Yet even the valiant-hearted Mrs. Paxton yielded to the haunting terror
of the bandits when the taxi drew in behind a gray car already standing
at the curb outside Smith's Hotel, and her brother grasped her wrist in
sudden warning.
"Sit still," he said. "Now we may get on the track of some of the gang.
That is the car which followed me on Monday night."
His sister, of course, did not understand. She had heard nothing of the
pursuit and its curious sequel.
"Do you mean it is one of the cars which these men use?" she whispered
breathlessly.
"Yes. I'll explain later. But what impudence! The scoundrels have not
even changed the number plate."
Unquestionably, the number of the gray landaulet now within a few feet
of them was XY 1314. Theydon stooped, opened a dressing case lying at
his feet, and took out the automatic pistol placed there by Bates. He
put it in the right-hand pocket of his coat.
"Now, I'll reconnoiter," he said, and opened the door. The taxi driver
was already gazing curiously in at his fares, wondering why one or both
did not alight.
"Be ready to start the instant I want you," said Theydon to the man, and
he strolled past the gray car, with every sense alert, every muscle
braced. If Wong Li Fu were seated inside he would cover him with the
pistol and hold him there until the police came, or shoot him dead if he
offered any resistance.
Fortunately, therefore, all things considered, the interior of the car
was absolutely empty, save for a copy of the Times on the back seat.
Even the presence of the newspaper was significant. In that issue should
have appeared Forbes's reply to "Y. M." which Furneaux had suppressed as
unnecessary.
There was a chauffeur at the wheel--no Chinaman, but a tightly-buttoned
and black-legginged young Englishman--in fact, the real thing in
chauffeurs.
"Whose car is this?" demanded Theydon.
"It belongs to the Chinese Embassy, sir," said the man, answering
civilly enough, but not unnaturally showing some surprise at the curt
question.
"Are you waiting here for some official of the Embassy?" went on
Theydon.
"Not exactly, sir, some friends of His Excellency." The man glanced
toward the door of the hotel. "Here they are now," he added.
Theydon turned. Two Chinamen, sedate, pig-tailed persons, were
descending the steps. With them was Furneaux! One of the Orientals gave
Theydon a rather sharp glance, having noticed, apparently, that he was
conversing with the chauffeur, but Furneaux, after a stonily indifferent
stare, said to the second Chinaman, in plain English:
"Do you mind dropping me at Scotland Yard?"
"With pleasure," was the composed reply.
The three entered, and the gray car made off, leaving Theydon to gaze
blankly after it. His sister, though badly scared at first, quickly
recovered her self-possession. She even made a joke of the incident.
"As an anti-climax, Frank, that is the best thing of its kind you have
ever brought off," she tittered.